When in Spain
by Eric Strauss
Summary: When hacienda-owner Lovino Vargas is dragged to Spain by his grandfather, he doesn't expect to find anything but a business profit. He certainly doesn't expect to find a passionate matador, an unexpected romance, and the perfect lover. Gift fic for HobbyHobby.
1. Chapter 1

_And here is your fic, as promised, dear! This is a gift-fic for HobbyHobby (user ID /u/4276674/). It started as a birthday fic, and from there, it became this. I apologise for having taken so long getting this out and published (It's so late!), but it is here! I hope you enjoy reading this, chér._

_*Lucian– Portugal_

* * *

_Two weeks earlier..._

Lovino gently stroked the velvety head of his favourite calf, affectionately fingering the budding horns near the temples of the beast. With Feliciano away from the pastures, filling buckets with water from an old well, Lovino had a moment to indulge in quietly fondling the young bull.

The bulls were never owned as personal property, always sold once mature, and although Lovino knew better than to become sentimentally attached to any one of the calves, he never failed to develop a weakness for one calf or another.

"You're going to leave me too someday, just like the last one. But you're still better than a human." Slightly bitter, Lovino knew the smile he tried to give better resembled a grimace. "At least you can't–"

"Fratello, Grandpa says we're not allowed to touch the bulls." Dripping wet, undoubtedly from repeatedly dropping water on himself, Feliciano appeared unexpectedly and perched himself onto the rickety fence alongside Lovino. Lovino stiffened. When the hell had he come back?

With a small smile, Feliciano reached out to stroke the same bull Lovino had been petting. "Even though I don't see why we're not supposed to. They're very sweet."

"It doesn't matter what he says, as long as you don't tell him. It's stupid that we can't touch them, we feed them and do all the other work for them anyway. The least we can do is pet them if we want to." Lovino remembered with a scowl the tongue lashing he had received when he was younger for having attempted to pet the bulls.

_"Lovino! What did I say about these bulls? They are dangerous, and soon they will belong to someone else! Please Lovino, just listen. Don't touch the bulls anymore, understand?"_

"Besides, it's not like I'm doing something bad. So keep your mouth shut and we'll be fine."

"Lovino, it is so good to hear the way you encourage your brother to listen to directions."

Cringing under Roma's disapproving brow, Feliciano looked guilty. Lovino only shrugged. "We do all the work for the bulls, the least we can do it touch them."

"That is a discussion for another day, if that. You already know why I say not to touch the bulls, we have gone over this plenty of times." With a tone that left no room for argument, Roma paused to lick his lips before continuing.

"I came out here to tell you boys that we have an important client in Spain. He's hoping to buy at least a dozen bulls for a festival, and I told him we'd be there in two weeks to discuss payment. I expect you to be ready when the time comes to leave."

Lovino sat quietly while the information processed. "Wait, wh–"

"I expect you to be ready when the time comes to leave. Two weeks."

Roma left just as unceremoniously as he had appeared, heading back toward the house and leaving Lovino and Feliciano behind.

For several moments they sat there in docile silence, Feliciano humming under his breath and Lovino absently gazing at the older bulls Roma refused to get rid of. Then Lovino snapped.

"You would think he could fucking ask first." Lovino didn't bother masking his annoyance, swinging his legs and kicking at the nearest post of wood. "Maybe I don't want to go to fucking Spain!"

Feliciano's tone was as thoughtful as ever. "You never know Lovi, you might like it! I can't wait till we go, something fun could happen!"

"No Feliciano, I _know_ that nothing fun will happen. He's only taking us for appearances, so shut up. And shit, I feel like this fence is going to fall..."

.

_Two weeks later..._

When Feliciano had suggested sight-seeing the second they had set foot in Spain, Roma had agreed with his youngest grandson without a second thought. He had also, by default, dragged Lovino with them, denying the elder brother permission to stay at the hotel. Lovino was nothing less than thoroughly pissed.

"I don't see why we had to come out here, if they wanted a bull so fucking badly they could have come to us. It's goddamn obvious that we're tourists. And it's so fucking hot."

"Watch your goddamn mouth, young man. I expect you to be polite when we meet our client, this could turn out to be regular customer. They have a festival every year and they are going to need bulls for each event. You're going to be on your best behaviour, understood?"

Lovino chose not to answer. Turning away from his grandfather's narrowed gaze, Lovino instead fixed his glare on the rustic fountain in the centre of the town square. "So, what are they going to do with the bulls anyways?"

Roma either genuinely did not hear, or made the point of purposely ignoring Lovino's question. Feliciano, interest abruptly piqued and drawn away from a mural, immediately parroted the question.

"What are they going to do to the bulls?"

"They're going to be used for a festival, in a fighting event–"

Lovino felt his teeth grind. He had asked first.

"–Matadors fight with the bulls and eventually kill them."

Feliciano's expression was the portrait of horror. Lovino was in disbelief.

"You're going to let them do that to the bulls?"

Lovino's stomach lurched painfully. He had cared for each and every bull they sold, had spent tedious, countless hours cleaning and feeding them, taking them out to the pastures... Lovino felt physically ill.

"We c-"

"Grandpa we can't do that! Just think about the bulls, they're going to hurt and be sad and then they're going to die all alone! And some of them are so sweet, how could somebody do that to a poor bull? It's not very nice and I don't like it, a-and..." Feliciano interrupted himself with a loud wail and wiped his watering eyes. "I don't think I like Spain very much anymore, not of they do that here every year..."

Roma gave a booming laugh and clapped a large hand on both Lovino's shoulder and Feliciano's.

"Do not worry about the bulls, they will be fine. They survive half the time anyways. What is important now is making it to the meeting on time, so we have to hurry. We're off to a bistro, and then to the arena!"

Lovino rolled his eyes. In the mind of his grandfather, his empty stomach _would _come before the business meeting that would decide the fate of their bulls. In Lovino's mind however, it did not.

"So, where are we supposed to meet these people? I'm pretty sure there are several arenas, just look around."

Roma frowned slightly. "It said the arena near the city fountain, and there is only one fountain."

Feliciano asked the next question before Lovino could.

"Who are the people we are going to meet?"

"According to the invoice, the event planners are an Antonio Carriedo and a Lucian Rivera."

"Can't fucking wait."

.

Antonio fidgeted and twitched beneath the tailor's talented hands, despite already having gone through the process of measuring several times. A new traje de luces was to be made for the next event and measurements were to be taken, despite his insistence on wearing the one he had used the year before. Antonio winced. A pin had broken skin, he could feel it.

Even worse than his discomfort was the fact that he was sweating. A vigorous training for festivities had left him feeling dirty with sweat, an unpleasant feeling only made worse by prodding hands and pins.

Antonio stole a glance at the clock and found a chance for escape. "_Es una pena, pero ya me tengo que ír_! I have a meeting and I really cannot be late. It is a meeting with Italians, and you know how they are. They are a tricky people." Antonio gave a casual shrug, happening to leave out the little fact that his meeting was not scheduled until a half hour later. That half hour could prove to become valuable time, and Antonio waited anxiously for the pins and stiffly embroidered fabric to be removed before bolting from the room and excusing himself with only the briefest of farewells.

The first task to undergo was taking a shower. From there, he would enjoy the sights of his own city, the decorations that would hang from the trees and ribbons that would surround the fountains. Then would come the meeting with the Italians. Antonio gave a slight grimace. He hadn't been lying before; the Italians _were_ a tricky people, hard to charm on the first encounter. Antonio was less than eager to meet with the potential business partners, nearly dreading the rendezvous.

Antonio didn't realise he had been standing in the middle of the street, until an angry, accented voice shouted at him. "Fucking move, idiot!"

Antonio sprang to life and ducked away, shouting an apology into the air. The voice had come from seemingly out of nowhere, but regardless, Antonio threw out his apology before turning to the matter at hand. The accent had been strong, but it was reminiscent of a Mediterranean country, not Spanish. It distinctly reminded Antonio of the Italians he had yet to meet, and it was with a sigh that he set off toward the arena where they had arranged to meet.

.

Lovino had to admit Lucian Rivera wasn't too bad, or as big an idiot as he had expected. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, on the other hand...

Lovino despised him the second they met, for several reasons. His smile, so bright and never-fading, was annoying. It never went away, despite how long the introductions had dwindled. His accent was annoying too; rising, trilling, and dropping unnecessarily to make every word sound like it was intended to be sung. And lastly, nobody could possibly be as friendly as Antonio was, without an ulterior motive. He had laughed when Lovino first called him a bastard, had caught his wrist and teased him for his balance when he had stumbled over an uneven tile, and had showed up with a bottle of fine Moscato wine for Roma. He was a kiss-ass, and Lovino greatly resented the fact.

Feliciano immediately liked the Spaniard, and the feeling seemed to be reciprocated. Lovino had not expected anything less, Feliciano being the way he was. Open, kind-hearted, free of worries... He had greeted the Spaniard with a spontaneous hug, as though greeting an old friend as opposed to greeting a freshly-met business acquaintance...

Lovino didn't realise that he had lost track of the conversation while thinking of Antonio's flaws, or realise he was repeatedly being asked a question until Roma gave him a sharp kick from beneath the table. Blinking his stupor away, Lovino found a set of disturbingly green eyes gazing at him. "Huh?"

Antonio laughed, showing off a perfectly brilliant set of teeth. The partner beside him looked vaguely uninterested. "I asked if you would be interested in attending our festivities next week. Your Grandpa Roma tells me that you're worried about what will happen to the bulls! If you go, you can see what happens to your bulls. And of course, you can also see me in action. So what do you say?"

Lovino felt his stomach twist. Brown, hazel, blue, and bright green eyes were all staring at him, waiting intently for his answer. The wink Antonio gave did not help the flush fighting its way to his face. Lovino brought a hand up to rub the nape of his neck and to hide his scorching cheeks. "Uh, I guess... I don't see why not," he mumbled, cursing his damnable cheeks for heating so easily.

"Perfecto!" Antonio finally turned his gaze away from Lovino, instead turning to address Roma. "You can pick up the arena tickets at the front door, I will tell Bella that they are not to be charged!"

Lovino felt his cheeks flush the second that gaze turned back to him. _Damn_.

"I will see you very soon Lovino, and I eagerly await the date!" Antonio beamed, and Lovino's stomach dropped.

Roma's heavy hand was abruptly on his shoulder once more, in a protective gesture. "Now now Signore Carriedo, bulls are left best uncastrated, as are men. So I suggest that you watch that tongue around my grandson. I have owned and castrated many bulls in my lifetime, and I'm very talented with the knives."

Lovino's face reddened instantly, even as Antonio's paled.

"Yes, of course Señor Vargas. I didn't mean anything like–"

"–No, of course not! It was just a joke, Carriedo." Roma began to laugh heartily, Antonio nervously joining in a moment later. "Although seriously." Roma abruptly stopped laughing and gave a narrow-eyed glare. "Watch your tongue."

Antonio nodded fervently and offered Lovino a hand to shake. Lovino shook it with disinterest, glowering at the wall and looking everywhere but Antonio's face.

Then Antonio turned to Feliciano. "Goodbye, Feliciano! Oh, so cute!" he exclaimed, hugging the smaller Italian brother who had leapt into his arms for a hug goodbye. Lovino scowled from behind Roma and stepped outside the room, observing from the hallway.

Words were exchanged between Roma and Antonio for another minute, before Roma turned to speak with the other man, and Antonio left the room and stepped into the hallway. Antonio immediately caught him watching, a slow grin creeping onto the corners of his lips.

"You wouldn't make a great spy, if that's what you were trying to do," Antonio teased, much to Lovino's annoyance. "I'll see you sometime, Lovi. It was really great meeting you."

Lovino didn't bother looking at Antonio. "Ciao."

With a small wave, Antonio started down the corridor before stopping at mid-length.

"Are you and Feliciano related in any way?"

"He's my stupid little brother. You're an idiot if you couldn't tell that," Lovino muttered, wary irritation beginning to sink in again. It would only take a minute until...

"He is just so cute, you are so lucky to have him as a little brother!"

There it was.

It could have been the way Antonio had managed to catch him off guard countless times in a matter of hours. It could have been the fact that he was still uneasy about letting his bulls be slaughtered in the arena. It could have been the fact that Antonio had just said what he had heard all his life. Whatever it was, it was Lovino's breaking point.

Lovino stormed down the hallway and past Antonio with a scowl that sent frightened looks his way. It _was_ the fact that Antonio had said something he had heard all his life. _Feliciano is so cute_..._You are so lucky to have him as a little brother_..._What a dear!_ It wasn't that Lovino didn't think Feliciano was...It was that he deserved to be liked too. But no, Feliciano was always the sweet brother, the talented brother, the brother that everybody liked. It only made sense that Antonio, that _idiot_, liked him as well.

Then there was Antonio.

Everything about Antonio was stupid, from his stupid invitations and stupid face and dopey grin, to his sparkly eyes and stupid accent...

"Lovino! Wait!"

Lovino didn't look back, but allowed himself a tight lipped smile of satisfaction. Antonio sounded shocked. Good.

"Lovino, wait!"

Lovino did the opposite and didn't wait, instead sharply turning a corner and stepping onto a remote veranda, certain that he had lost the bothersome Spaniard. From where he stood, Lovino could see the sun setting over the old city, and had to admit the sight was beautiful. It was almost enough to sink his frustration, almost enough to settle him down. The distant sounds of city life were soothing, enough for Lovino to relax his shoulders and lean against the rail with ease...

Until without warning a warm hand ghosted over his. Lovino had to catch himself before flinching from the unexpected touch. Without having to turn, Lovino knew who it had to be. "Don't do stuff like that, you freak! And how did you find me?"

"Easy, you left the slide door open."

"...Shit."

Antonio ignored the curse and looked overly considerate, approaching the same handrail Lovino was leaning on. Lovino shifted once Antonio was uncomfortably close, close enough for their arms to graze.

"You know, Lovi..."

"Don't call me th–"

Lovino turned to snap his protest over being called a pet name, prior anger exhausted, but fell short. Stunning, quizzical green eyes cut off his train of thought, and Lovino momentarily forgot how to breathe.

"But why not? It's short and sweet, like I'm sure you really are..."

"I'm not sweet, you idiot. And you just insulted my height."

Antonio's laugh was full of life. "I did not mean for it to sound that way. If it helps, I like your height. It is adorable!"

When Antonio leaned in even closer, eyelids falling half-mast over captivating green eyes, Lovino's chest constricted impossibly.

"Shut up! I am not adorable, y-you...moron.

"You're right. You're absolutely beautiful."

Antonio was close enough for his warm breath to just barely brush over Lovino's lips, lips mere centimetres away from his own, standing close enough for Lovino's body to tremble with an unknown, unfamiliar feeling, but...

Lovino drew back and abruptly stomped on Antonio's foot as hard as he could.

"GIRLS ARE BEAUTIFUL, YOU IDIOT! AND YOU ARE _NOT_ GETTING A KISS THAT EASILY!" Lovino shouted, throwing his hands into the air and stalking away in a fit of anger, pretending that he couldn't hear Antonio's laughter behind him and denying both everything and anything. _No_, his heart was _not_ thudding painfully in his ribcage, _no_, his cheeks were _not _flushed a burning shade of crimson, and most importantly, _no_, he did _not_ in the slightest way wish that he had stayed out on the veranda with Antonio.

* * *

_To be continued..._

* * *

_For something that took so long to write, it was despicable. So I do apologise, but I do hope you enjoyed it at least a bit... Reviews are always greatly appreciated._


	2. Chapter 2

"Signore Roma?"

"Antonio. What a surprise finding you here."

When Antonio appeared beside the fountain, the only thought that flickered through Lovino's mind was of their last meeting days before, and not without an internal grimace. After a night of fuming and contemplation, Lovino had realised he had overreacted in stomping away with such a flustered scene. There had been no guarantee that Antonio was about to kiss him... Antonio simply seemed to have no sense of personal boundary whatsoever.

So it was with a calm, steady voice that Lovino was able to return Antonio's friendly greeting. "Hi."

"What are you all doing today? Taking in some Spanish sunshine and checking out the tourist sites?"

"Sí! And Grandpa is looking at the ladies! Spain has many pretty ladies, Mr. Antonio!"

Lovino struggled to keep himself from clapping a hand to his face. "Aren't you going to at least say hello before mentioning the ladies, Feliciano?"

"Oh! Hello, Mr. Antonio! I just forgot to say hello because I was going to tell you that the ladies here are very pretty, but I guess I already told you that. So now you know what I was going to say, and I don't need to say it anymore. Although I'm sure you already knew that the ladies are beautiful, you live here! How are you, Mr. Antonio?"

"Feliciano, so cute and...talkative, as always! But call me Antonio, there's no need to call me 'mister.' And I'm doing very well amigito, thank you for asking." After patting Feliciano's head, Antonio turned to Roma. Lovino couldn't help but notice that a hand remained on Feliciano's shoulder. "If you are sight-seeing, what better guide than a native Spaniard? If you would like, I could show you around the city!"

"That sounds like a great idea. We were just on our way to the town square. Why don't you lead the way?"

"With great pleasure!"

Antonio's ramblings and conversation with Roma were only interrupted by occasional greetings from strangers on the streets or shouts from the vendors surrounding the unstable streets. As Antonio's voice droned on and on, Lovino found himself ignoring the meaning of the words he spoke and focusing instead on the way he said them. His accented, pleasantly deep voice would lift and lower in an foreign way, his pronunciation and way of trilling making every word sound deliciously exotic. When Lovino returned to the real world and paid attention to what Antonio was actually saying, he realised the Spaniard was being a charming idiot, prattling along with that accent of his.

"This little square has existed for centuries. It's one of the most beautiful sights of Seville, and the city receives thousands of tourists here per year. Many people come not only to see the beauty of the square itself however, but also to marvel at the old-fashioned architecture of the buildings and the spectacular town fountain."

"You sound like a tour map."

"Lovino, don't be rude," scolded Roma. "If we were in Rome, you would be giving out facts about the Trevi Fountain. Be quiet and listen."

Lovino only shrugged and went back to listening to Antonio's accent. He would clearly be around it for a while; it would only make sense to get used to it.

.

"Around this time of year, because we have so many tourists visiting for the bullfighting and bull run season, many street vendors offer the tourists samples of the local cuisine. Would you like to try it?"

"Sure, why not."

"Sí!"

"No."

"Give it a try Lovino! My two closest friends always go on and on about how much they love the food sampling, whenever they come here. Speaking of which, they should be arriving any day soon... So just give it a try!"

"Lovino, ricordare che questo è un cliente importante. Just do it."

Stoically, Lovino nodded. "Fine, lets go. What's first?"

As they veered toward the first stand, Antonio pointed excitedly to a small dish sample. "Gazpacho! A summer favourite, it is always the perfect entrée for a hot day!"

Lovino eyed the content suspiciously. "I like my soup hot, thank you very much. And that looks really cold."

"Just give it a try Lovino, don't be such a stick in the mud." Roma's chiding tone never failed to set Lovino's teeth on edge. It also sounded amicable, which Lovino knew was an underlying command.

"Stick in the mud, eh? Give me some."

Lovino pointedly ignored Antonio's look of mild amusement and warily took a mouthful of the odd soup, waiting for the perfect opportunity to spit out his mouthful and declare it disgusting. The opportunity didn't present itself– the flavours melted together perfectly. The sharp taste of crisp vegetables blended evenly with the more subtle tastes and textures of summer legumes, making Lovino's mouth water for more. He hated having to admit it, but the gazpacho was delicious.

"It's not too bad," Lovino allowed, reluctant to fully praise the cuisine. Scuffing his toe on the tiled plaza floor, he refused to make eye contact with Antonio. "The tomatoes were perfect."

Instead of the smug smirk Lovino had expected, a bright gaze fixed itself onto him. "You liked the tomatoes too? I adore tomatoes!"

"Don't get so fucking excited, I just said they tasted good. But I do like tomatoes, sí."

"He doesn't just like tomatoes, he loves them! He's always eating them at home, and he always complains when there aren't any fresh ones at the marketplace! So that's why he started growing his own little tomato plants in the garden, next to my flowers and grandpa's rosemary!"

"Wow Feliciano, you sure pay attention to what your brother does! And I have my own tomato plants at home too Lovi, maybe we can check them out sometime. They're really beautiful. But anyways, next you can try paella! It doesn't have tomatoes, but you might like it anyways."

"I don't want to. I just want...I just want that!"

"A churro?"

"Yeah, a churro."

"Good idea, I can get one too!"

Antonio left in an immediate quest for the doughy sticks, leaving Lovino behind with his amused grandfather and Feliciano.

"You certainly have him at your hand and foot."

"No I don't. He just wanted a churro too."

"You already know that's not true, don't be stubborn."

Lovino scowled but wasn't given time to reply before Antonio returned with several of the cinnamon-covered sticks, his own nearly entirely eaten. "You're going to love them!"

After a tentative lick, Lovino nodded his approval. He'd be damned if that wasn't one of the best things he had ever tasted...

Lovino was too preoccupied with licking the sugary stick to notice when Roma and Feliciano left to buy more, or to notice the way Antonio was eyeing him.

"Don't take in so much all at once, you don't want to choke." It was Antonio's sly tone that caused Lovino gasp and lodge a chunk of the doughy treat in his throat. Eyes watering and throat aching, Lovino waved a hand in a weak attempt to hit Antonio.

"Bastardo! Don't say things like that!"

"You see? You started choking! You have to take it in slowly, Lovi. It's delicious, but take your time. It isn't going anywhere."

Antonio's voice sounded too sincere to sound as though he was intentionally making innuendoes...Lovino still had his doubts. Glaring, he held out his churro. "I don't want it anymore."

"What? Well, we can't let a perfectly good churro go to waste!" Without a second thought, Antonio took a bite of Lovino's churro. Lovino's cheeks burned red hot. He had licked that stick, taken small bites of it...And now, Antonio's mouth was right where his had been. Lovino bit his lip and began to walk toward Roma, hiding his flushed cheeks behind his palm. Antonio would be the unintentional death of him.

.

Loud music was playing in the square by live musicians, the sound of drums and tambourines lively, upbeat. People were dancing boldly on the streets and sidewalks, seemingly unconcerned about dancing in a crowded public area. The town square faintly reminded Lovino of the piazzas in his native Italy, both sharing the same energy of the locals. A smile twitched on his face. Feliciano was already dancing happily, Roma was watching the women dance with interest, and Antonio looked entirely at ease in his natural environment with a foolish grin on his face.

"When in Spain, do as the Spanish do! We are very well-known for our dancing. With natural grace and rhythm, we are some of the best dancers in the world. Would you like to give it a try?" With a tone that low, that strangely seductive, heat rose to Lovino's cheeks by near-instinct. He wanted to protest, to claim that Italians were naturally gifted as well, that he could dance better than anybody in the square, but Lovino could only stand and fidget uncomfortably. Antonio's face loomed closer in wait of a reply, and the panicked instinct to either run or attack became suffocatingly unbearable. Lovino delivered a sharp kick to Antonio's shin. "No!"

Even as Antonio yelped, Roma let out a surprised and angered scolding. "Che diavolo? Scusiamo sin d'ora!"

"...Mi rincresce."

"Don't worry about it. You'll be safe around strangers if you use that kick on them! But are you sure you don't want to give dancing a try?"

Lovino sighed and rubbed the side of his nose. "You aren't going to leave me alone until I say yes, so yes."

The brilliant beam that appeared on Antonio's face was nearly painful to look at. "Great! Come here!"

Before Lovino knew what was happening, he was pressed flush against Antonio's chest. Lovino stiffened. Antonio was touching him! A hand was clutching at his waist, and he was being spun in time to the rhythmic drum beats, despite the way his body was locked rigid.

"If you don't know how to dance, I can teach you. It's very simple." Antonio's lips were inches from his cheek, his body close enough for Lovino to feel the heat emanating from it, a strong hand clutching firmly at the curve of his waist. Lovino's blood burned with the challenge.

"Of course I can dance! I'll be the best partner you've ever had!" To illustrate his point, Lovino gave a sly twist of his hips, smirking smugly when Antonio's eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"I don't doubt it. Just remember who's the better dancer here. I am Spanish, after all."

"I am Italian. We're the better dancers."

"We'll see about that."

Antonio had natural rhythm Lovino quickly lost himself in. The hands on his hips, the chest pressed against his own, the silky locks brushing against his cheek, the way Antonio spun him around and around until his head was spinning and the world was nothing but a blur of bright colours... It was all an exciting, euphoric high that Lovino was reluctant to leave. Their dance seemed endless, time floating by without a care. Feliciano was cheering behind them, the music was still playing loudly, and Lovino was so close to laughing, so close to giving up on his inhibitions in order to enjoy himself...

But then the music came to a stop, and it was with great disappointment that Lovino untangled himself from Antonio's arms.

"That wasn't bad, Lov. You really seemed to be having fun for a moment there!"

"That is my grandson. He complains about having to do things, but the second he does it, he enjoys it." Roma placed a possessive hand onto Lovino's shoulder, the other resting upon Feliciano's shoulder. "I hope you enjoyed that dance, Antonio, because it's the closest you're ever going to get to my grandson."

"Oh Signore Vargas, you insult me with your lack of trust! I would never do anything that would be frowned upon!" Was Lovino the only one who caught the twinkle in his eye...? Roma certainly didn't; he nodded his approval. Antonio continued speaking as though nothing had occurred.

"But lets move on, si? We still have a lot to see before the sun sets, and I want you all to see the town fountain!"

With Antonio as an expert guide, the winding streets and shortcuts led them to the beautiful fountain he had mentioned, a sight Lovino was sure he otherwise would have never found.

"Supposedly if you throw one coin into the fountain, you'll have a great time in Seville. If you throw two coins into the fountain, any wish you make will come true. And if you throw three coins into the fountain..." Antonio's voice lowered, and he deliberately tossed three coins, one by one, into the fountain. "If you throw three coins into the fountain, you'll fall in love while in Spain."

Feliciano's eyes widened to extraordinary proportions. Lovino pitied him; he really was susceptible to town legends and stories. Feliciano ran off in pursuit of their grandfather, waving his arms in the air and crying out for him to wait. "Grandpa, I need coins!"

Lovino ignored Feliciano in favour of scoffing at Antonio."You know that that's a bunch of cheesy, touristy crap, right? It's just a trap to get a bunch of stupid foreigners to throw their money away." Lovino dug into his pocket for two quarters, tossing them into the fountain from over his shoulder. Antonio's look of hurt morphed into an expression of puzzled satisfaction.

"You say it is a 'bunch of cheesy crap,' and yet you throw your money in?"

"*Everybody knows stuff like this only works when you toss it over your shoulder."

Antonio looked at loss, but laughed all the same. "You sure are something special. So, what did you wish for?"

Lovino hadn't wished for anything, but that didn't stop the tips of his ears from burning red. "Idiota, I can't tell you what I wished for."

Feliciano seemed to re-materialise from entirely out of nowhere. "If he tells you his wish, it won't come true!"

Antonio dramatically clapped a hand to his forehead to indulge Feliciano. "That is true, I forgot about that! Oh well...How many coins did you throw into the fountain, Feli?"

"Six! I threw in one so that I could keep having a good time, then two so that my wish can come true, and then three so that, uh... Just because." Feliciano's cheeks, already pink from excitement and the morning sun, darkened. "Since I threw coins in for the other two legends, I did the third one too. Of course it doesn't need to happen, I did it just because! The most important one is my wish, I hope it comes true..."

Lovino snickered. "Did you wish for a plate of pasta?"

"Lovino, you said it out loud and now it won't come true! How did you know?" Feliciano's expression was the perfect mixture of disappointment and confusion. Feliciano's wish was so simple and honest, Lovino couldn't help but snort.

"That's all you ever want, it wasn't hard to guess what you wished for."

"I did wish for a soccer ball one time..."

"What about you Lovi, would you wish for something as simple as pasta?"

Lovino's attention was turned back to Antonio. "Hell no. I would wish for something big and important, like owning the mafia."

"A Mafioso, how dangerous! Well, I know that I would wish for something very different. I would just wish to be happy."

"That's a very simple wish."

Antonio only shrugged. "You'll find that it's not as simple as you think."

A frown streaked Lovino's brow. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Lovino wasn't given a chance to ask for elaboration– an unexpected shove from a passerby sent him sprawling into the fountain. Water blurred his vision and his head hit the tiled floors of the fountain, and fucking shit the water was COLD, before strong hands grabbed at his wrists and pulled him out of the water. When Lovino blinked open his eyes and stopped coughing from having taken in lungfuls of cold water, he realised that both tourist and citizens alike gawked and stared with open mouths. Some looked surprised, others looked sympathetic, and others yet were laughing at his misfortune. All the same, they had all seen Lovino's spectacular tumble into the fountain. Roma was doubled over with mirth, as though his grandson had purposely fallen for the act of entertaining. Roma's laughter made Lovino's stomach twist with shame and anger, but even worse than that was the tender, concerned look in Antonio's green eyes. "Lovi, are you alright? Did you hit your head?"

Hot tears of humiliation fought their way to Lovino's eyes. Anything would have been better than sympathy. He couldn't take it; he ran. He didn't know anything about the city or his location, but he ran all the same, not stopping until he found a dark corner where the town music couldn't be heard.

The silence and darkness of the town corner was a small comfort that Lovino greatly appreciated, feeling entirely alone. Those who had seen him fall wouldn't find him there, wouldn't recognise him, despite his wet clothing...The silence was welcomed, but lasted for a time that wasn't enough.

Antonio approach had been silent; Lovino wasn't aware of his presence until his kind voice broke the penetration of his thoughts.

"You never answered me earlier, Lov. Does your head hurt? The fountain isn't very deep, and it's easy to hit your head in places like that..."

His head was, in fact, throbbing with the oncomings of a minor concussion, but Lovino ignored that and shot a glare toward Antonio instead. One hand was clapped over a rapidly beating heart and the other was curled into a fist of surprise. "Why did you follow me? You always fucking do that, you creep. And where did my grandpa and Feli go?"

"They left to the hotel, I said that I would walk you home. Somebody had to, since Seville is a big city and it's getting late. Even though it's not a bad city, any place can be dangerous, and it's easy for a tourist like you to get lost."

"Get bent, I can find my way to the hotel. Just go, I want to be alone."

"I can't do that, I'm sure your grandpa would kill me if I did. Besides, why do you want to be alone?"

"Because what happened in the piazza is fucking embarrassing! I fell into a fountain and everybody was staring at me when I got out. My own grandpa was laughing at me, for crying out loud! But that happens whenever I do something wrong, so I don't really care about him...But I made a fool of myself in front of everyone else!"

Antonio's arm came to wind soothingly around Lovino's shoulders. Lovino was too frustrated and cold to push him away. A nimble finger wiped away a tear he hadn't realised fell. "Everybody gets embarrassed sometimes, it's natural. And accidents always happen, it wasn't even your fault. That guy wasn't watching where he was going! But you should have seen his expression when I yelled at him, it was bizarre!"

Antonio made the most terrible face Lovino had ever seen, normally chiseled features twisting into an exaggerated expression of mock surprise. It was so strange, so bizarre, as he had put it, that Lovino couldn't keep himself from letting out a small burble of laughter.

"He did not make a face like that!"

"Oh, but he did! You should have seen it, it put a troll to shame!"

When Antonio pulled the face again, Lovino burst into a louder round of laughter, self-consciously trying to stifle his snorts of amusement to no avail. Then he gave up and laughed until his eyes watered.

Once his eyes had cleared of the tears threatening to spill from nothing but a funny face, Lovino became aware of the way Antonio was staring at him thoughtfully.

"That is the first time I have heard you laugh."

"Yeah, well...Don't get used to it." Lovino quickly wiped away the evidence of his earlier hysterics and straightened his slouching position. "I'm not here to laugh. Maybe my grandpa is, but someone has to be the adult."

"Then tell him to grow up. It's not healthy to not laugh. You need to laugh and dance and meet people, and have fun!"

"Yeah, whatever. Take me home already."

"Okay, come on..."

A warm, soft weight settled itself onto Lovino's cold shoulders. Antonio's jacket was draped over him, thoroughly chasing the chill from his body and sending warm shivers down his spine. Lovino gratefully pulled the well-worn sweater closer to his shoulders and buried his nose into the collar. "Grazíe," he muttered half-heartedly, lowering his gaze to look at the cobblestones as they passed by underfoot.

"You don't have to thank me, Lovi."

"Fine then, see if I thank you the next time...And don't call me Lovi."

The jacket smelled like Antonio, a comforting, subtle scent that Lovino found he didn't mind as much as he minded the actual Spaniard. The sweater was pleasantly large, reaching past his waist and hanging off his shoulders. It only served to remind him of how much bigger Antonio was. Lovino snuck a glance at Antonio and bit his lip. The simple shirt Antonio wore clung delightfully to a flat stomach and broad shoulders, giving him a clear view of the Spaniard's powerful muscles. A flash of tanned skin peeked out from the beneath the cut of his pointed collar, and another small expanse of skin was bared by low-riding denim jeans. Lovino abruptly felt small and ungainly by comparison. It was an unsettling, awkward feeling, and Lovino shuffled alongside Antonio self-consciously. They continued to walk side by side in what Lovino considered to be an uncomfortable silence, until Antonio broke it once again.

"So, if you throw three coins into the fountain, you get to fall in love..." Antonio began to talk casually, far too casually for Lovino to trust.

"So?"

"So what do you think happens when you throw a Lovi into the fountain?"

"Eh? That isn't funny!"

"Yes it is! Ouch! Mierda, eso duele...Okay, not funny!"

Antonio rubbed his arm with a sore grimace that left Lovino proud of his left fist. "I've been rammed into by bulls in the arena, punched unintentionally by Gilbert, accidentally stabbed by *puntillas...But that punch is right up there on my list of painful encounters!"

Lovino's smirk of satisfaction slowly faded. "What do you mean you've been rammed into by bulls?"

"It's something normal that can happen when fighting with the bulls. As long as the horns don't pierce skin, it's all okay." Antonio gave a casual shrug, even as Lovino's stomach dropped to unrealistic depths.

"Wait, you fight with the bulls? What?"

Antonio gave a look of confusion that slowly gave way to a look of dawning understanding. "You...You didn't know I fight bulls? Lovi, I'm a matador. Didn't you know that?"

"NO!"

The word ripped from the very core of Lovino's body, the disbelief nearly palpable in the air. Thoughts swarmed in his mind in a dizzying rush. Antonio killed bulls, Antonio killed his bulls, bulls he had raised by hand and taken care of every single day... Lovino felt physically sick.

"How could you do something like that to a defenceless animal!? Dannazione, Antonio!"

Antonio looked entirely bewildered. "Wait Lovino, you don't understand–"

"–I do understand! I understand that you kill animals for fun, because you're a sick fuck! Has anybody ever put you in a ring to die? Have you ever been poked and stabbed for fun, suffering a slow death because stupid people think it's fun, or entertaining?"

The stunned look on Antonio's face only infuriated Lovino more. He clearly had never seen it that way.

"But–"

"–You are a stupid bastard, and I hate you! You can bet your ass that I'll be at the event next week, I'll be there with a bunch of activists so that they can give you hell for what you do!"

"But Lovino, just listen for one moment! I've been trying to tell you, I don't always kill the bulls! If I see that there is a chance that they could survive, I send them to a rehabilitation clinic outside of Barcelona! I don't...don't just kill the bulls, for entertainment or money, I love bulls! I do it because by doing this, I can rescue more bulls than I would be able to if I were just a normal onlooker!"

There was nothing but silence for a painstaking, unsettling moment while Lovino allowed the information to sink in. "...So there is a chance my bulls will be okay?"

Antonio let out a breathless, nervous laugh. "Yes, there is a chance. They will get hurt during the event, that goes without saying, but I'm sure I could find a way to save them in the end."

"...Grazíe."

Walking in silence once again, Lovino only muddled in his thoughts. What Antonio did was terrible; he hated anybody who would willingly hurt an unsuspecting animal he himself had raised... And yet Antonio only did it because he believed he could help the animals by doing so. Lovino's head ached.

Spared from any further thoughts when the hotel came into view, Lovino snuck another glance at Antonio's unexpectedly serious face. Yes, he could believe that Antonio wanted to do something good. He accomplished it in an odd way... But he did it to help nonetheless. Lovino was satisfied.

Once they approached the entrance of the suite, the door was unexpectedly thrown open to reveal Roma's grinning face.

"There you are, I was just about to send out a search party for you!"

"My apologies, Signore Vargas. I was hungry, and I convinced Lovino to stay with me while I bought a churro." Antonio's lie was easy to believe, spoken simply and fluidly. Much to Lovino's relief, he hadn't mentioned why they had really taken so long. Much to his chagrin, he realised Antonio was a talented liar.

"Ah, that is good. As long as Lovino is home and still a virgin, I am satisfied."

"Grandpa!" Lovino was immediately horrified. The earth had swallowed Pompeii; why couldn't it swallow him?

Antonio only looked vaguely amused. "You do not have to worry about that, Signore Vargas, I wouldn't dream of doing a thing to your grandson."

"A man of honour! In that case, Antonio, would you like to spend the night? It is very late, and there is nobody to escort you home."

"Grandpa, I'm sure Antonio wants to go home. Don't you, Antonio?"

"Ah, I thank you very much for the offer Roma, but I still have to head back to the arena one more time, and I have to train for next weeks festivities in the morning. Besides, I do not need an escort. I'll take my leave now, and leave you both to rest. Goodnight, Signore Vargas. I'll see you next week, Lovi."

When Roma turned around, Antonio leaned in toward Lovino, leaned in close enough for warm breath to ghost over his ear. "Perhaps even sooner, Lov."

Lovino prayed that Antonio couldn't hear the sound of his heart slowing to a near stop, the sound of blood rushing dizzyingly in his veins... "Whatever, just leave. And don't call me that."

Antonio only laughed and stepped out the door into the cold, Spanish streets. Lovino realised a second too late that he still had Antonio's sweater. Whirling around with a small smile itching on the corners of his lips, Lovino met his grandfather's lifted brow and felt it disappear instantly.

"Don't think I didn't see that."

"Eh, he's just a crazy bastard. I'm tired, buona notte."

.

You'll find it's not as simple as you think. Lovino couldn't stop thinking about what Antonio said, couldn't keep himself from scrutinising every word for an underlying message, and couldn't for the life of him understand what it was that Antonio was trying to say. Lovino gnawed on his lower lip. Antonio had to have been joking, like he always was... Because surely being happy had to be easy, Antonio and Feliciano and everybody was always happy!

Despite his reasoning, Lovino couldn't stand being unsure. The anxiety would snap and teeth at him, the need for an answer would consume him in his entirety...It was one of the few rare occasions when Lovino was grateful to share a room with Feliciano– he could always ask his brother.

Turning to face his brother's bed through the pitch-black darkness of the room, Lovino tried to pull off a casual tone. "Feliciano, do you think it's easy to be happy?"

For several long minutes, there was nothing but total silence in the room. Doubts had just been starting to rise as to whether or not Lovino had been right to assume that Feliciano was awake when his soft voice thoughtfully broke through.

"I don't know. It can be easy sometimes, but other times it can be hard when there is nothing to be happy about, or nothing to make me happy. I get happy when I see beautiful flowers or pretty girls and I sit down to eat pasta, but that only makes me happy for a little while. Then I have to look for something new to make me happy. And of course, it's always easy to be sad. I get happy when I see fíores growing, so beautiful in the grass, but then I become sad when I see them die after being picked. And I'm always happy when I'm eating pasta, but then I become sad when I finish it. So I guess the real question would be whether it's easy or possible to always be happy! And to that, I just think it's better to be happy than to be sad or upset. It's healthier, and it always better to see the good things in life! Life is too short to spend it being sad."

It was astonishing how Feliciano, the younger brother, was able to think from such perspective, to think with such simplicity. Something similar to pride swelled in Lovino's chest, and he had never before felt so proud of his younger brother. A small smile slowly crept onto the corners of his lips. "Grazíe, fratellino. Buona notte."

* * *

_To be continued..._

* * *

_Ricordare che questo è un cliente importante– Remember that this is an important client._

_Che diavolo? Scusiamo sin d'ora– What the hell? Apologise right now!_

_Mi rincresce– I'm sorry._

* * *

_* With the Trevi Fountain in Rome, it is said that if a person throws one coin into the fountain, they will return to Rome another day, if a person throws two coins into the fountain, any wish the person makes can come true, and if a person throws three coins into the fountain, he or she will fall in love while in Rome._

_*Puntilla - The dagger used to stab the base of the bull's skull_


	3. Chapter 3

Lovino nearly jumped out of his skin when the hotel buzzer buzzed in the late morning. Feliciano was with Roma, and Roma was in the town conference centre, so there was no way it could be someone he knew– which only left one of two possibilities. It was either a dangerous stranger, seeking to rob him blind the second he opened the door, or hotel room service.

Although Lovino's stomach had roared in hungry protest earlier that morning soon after waking, he hadn't ordered brunch, or room service of any other sort. It left the former as the only option.

An impatient knock sounded at the door and Lovino nearly let out a noise that would have not been humiliatingly high-pitched, had it escaped his throat. Cold sweat broke out of his brow and he began to tremble by instinct. He was alone in a hotel room that was being broken into, without a single weapon lying about the confines of the hotel suite... The doorknob rattled and Lovino felt physically sick. Bile and stomach acid rose to the back of his throat, threatening to spew forth if he did so much as open his mouth.

Paralysed with fear when the rattling of the doorknob did not cease, Lovino's breath began to fall in short, rapid puffs and his lungs felt tightened and dry of oxygen; his heart pounded deafeningly and the blood seemed to terminate its flow in his veins. Lovino's head throbbed painfully and a pitiful whimper tore itself from him before he could control it. Burning, blindingly hot tears stung the rim of his eyes. He was not new to panic, but experience never made each attack of fear easier.

Just as Lovino thought he would topple lifelessly to the floor in a fright-induced faint, an unmistakeable voice sounded into the room from outside the hallway. "Signore Roma? Lovino?"

Relief fell upon Lovino heavily, hitting him with enough force to bring him to his knees. Lovino clutched his face in his palms, recovering from what would have been a very ugly scene, from what was the beginning of a near catastrophe. Tearless sobs ruptured from his throat, nearly choking him in their uncontrollable intensity. With a dry, barely-attained heave of air to clear his head and set the functions of his body back to the required tempo, Lovino stood on trembling, unstable legs and eyed the door with disbelief that slowly gave way to newer emotions.

All at once, fury flooded Lovino's system to replace the humiliating fear that had held him captive moments before. Storming on legs that lost their tremble with the new burst of testosterone-fuelled adrenaline, Lovino threw open the door with a resounding crack against the wall, catching Antonio in mid-retreat down the corridor.

The minuscule spark of delight that shot through Lovino's spine and caused him to physically shiver only made him all the more angry.

"You fucking idiot! You can't just come to somebody's fucking room and try to get in like that! I thought you were trying to break the fuck in, you stupid bastard! You scared the living shit and five fucking dollars out of me, and I almost had a panic attack because Grandpa isn't here, I'm here alone, and I thought that some fucking robbers were going to kill me!"

Tears of a delayed reaction streamed down his cheeks without his recognition until a tan, nimble-fingered hand was wiping them away with utmost urgency. He just barely caught himself from leaning into the touch for much needed comfort.

Lovino's shoulders collapsed and he suddenly felt very, very old. Tired, emotionally drained from the fear that had crippled him only moments before and the anger that had nearly sent his blood pressure rocketing to a dangerous height, Lovino could only lean against the frame of the door for support and give his best, sullen scowl. "You're a fucking idiot. I hate you. Get inside."

Antonio was shockingly silent as he entered the suite, worrying the soft flesh of his lower lip and looking guilty as fuck. Lovino could sense the next words before they were spoken. "Lovi, I'm so sorry... _Perdonamé, mí amor_, I wasn't thinking..."

"Yeah, no fucking kidding. And don't call me shit in Spanish, I can't speak it that well." Antonio looked justifiably hurt, but entirely reluctant to forgive him so easily, Lovino perched himself upon the dining table and ran a hand over his face to inconspicuously brush away the final evidence of his emotional display. Like hell he'd let someone know he had accidentally cried, good reason or not.

Turning his attentions back to Antonio, Lovino put on a cool façade and sat stiffly, acting every bit the business man he was supposed to be.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Coffee, Lov, if that's alright."

'NO, IT'S NOT FUCKING ALRIGHT,' was what Lovino wanted to heatedly snap in response, perhaps accentuated with a much deserved kick in the shin, or perhaps higher. Appearing miserable and remorseful, as though he actually meant it... Lovino left the dining room before he could re-evaluate his decision of leaving Antonio physically unharmed.

"So, what are you doing here anyway? I'm sure you didn't come here to give me a heart attack," Lovino somewhat-jibed, shooting a glare from over his shoulder. "If you did, I'm pressing charges." The crestfallen expression Antonio wore was enough to keep him from commenting snarkily any further.

"Well, I did come to see if I can talk to Roma about the payment plan..." Antonio sighed and ran a hand through temptingly dark curls. "But I guess I only ended up scaring you. I do still feel bad, Lovino."

"You should. But quit crying about it, I'm over it. If I wasn't, believe me when I say that I would spit in your coffee." Lovino waved the ceramic mug in his possession to only further prove his point. "You wouldn't even be here if I was still super pissed off."

"I probably would deserve that." Antonio's sheepish grin belonged on the face of a boy, not on the countenance of a fully grown male. Lovino couldn't deny that it was charming.

"You would, there's no 'probably' about it."

Returning to the table with matching mugs of steaming coffee, Lovino turned to the matter at hand before Antonio could wile him into forgiveness. "Why are you here anyway?"

"Roma said he would meet me here at noon to receive the payment for the bulls tomorrow, but he isn't here…Would you like to dance?" Blurting out the question with an abruptness and resolution that caught Lovino by surprise, Antonio watched him with an unfaltering, emerald gaze. Lovino scowled to mask a flush.

"We need music to dance, idiot."

"That's where you're wrong, Lovino. A truly talented dancer doesn't need music to dance, he can dance in silence!" Antonio's hopeful expression turned slyly cunning when Lovino remained unmoved. "If we dance, we can find out who is the most talented between the two of us."

Lovino's only retaliation was a quirked brow. "I already know for a fact that I'm the better dancer, so why should I bother?"

The simmering smirk on Antonio's lips was one of the most ridiculously seductive and attractive Lovino had ever seen. "The way into the heart of a Spaniard is through dance."

"Well I don't want to find my way into your heart!" Lovino expected laughter in response to his screech, but Antonio only murmured something under his breath.

"Too late."

"Wh-?"

"-Nada. So how about it? Care to dance?" Antonio interrupted before he could insist on the question, but Lovino ignored it all the same.

"Fine, whatever. Although you shouldn't be one to make demands after scaring the shit out of me…"

Just as before, a hand shyly came around to clutch at his waist, Antonio's other hand reaching to gently grip Lovino's own writing appendage. Unlike before however, their dance was strangely intimate. With nobody there to observe them, their dance was slow and different from the hot, fiery dance they had shared in the square, taking on an almost tender quality. Lovino was extremely conscientious of the hand on the small of his back, of the way Antonio's breath gently tussled his curls with every exhale.

Lovino's heart hadn't fluttered so rapidly or painfully since their last encounter days before, excluding the earlier incident. He feared that Antonio would hear his heart pounding rapidly, nearly springing out of his chest with every beat and passing second. If Antonio could hear his heart thrumming, he made no mention of it, only leading Lovino into a provocative spin that resulted with a brief moment spent over the crook of Antonio's elbow.

When Antonio pulled him upright and back into a standing position, the musky, masculine scent of his flesh and silky curls ensnared Lovino's senses, the feel of a firm body beside and flush against him capturing his increasingly self-aware attention.

A hot, almost unpleasant dull burn began to pool in the pit of his stomach, growing in intensity with each passing second, until Lovino was hypersensitive to every movement, to every tantalising press and sway of Antonio's body to his. The hot coil in the pit of his belly began to tighten and Lovino just barely managed to catch himself from moaning appreciatively at the painstakingly new and yet somehow familiar feeling. It was so good, so _right_ that Lovino didn't realise when they had stopped dancing and only stood there in each other's arms, Lovino's forehead pressed against the flat surface of Antonio's chest and the length of their bodies melted flush against each other.

Lovino took an experimental step forward and gasped audibly when the most sensitive part of his male anatomy brushed against Antonio's leg. It should have been shameful, it _would_ have been humiliating, if Lovino were to have been capable of feeling more than just but bone-rippling pleasure.

A sigh slipped past his parted lips and he quivered like a fallen leaf in Antonio's arms, the inexplicable, wild sensations burning through his body almost too much to bear. He tried to speak the Spaniard's name, but all that came out was a twisted, drawn out noise, almost of a plea-like quality, that he couldn't believe he let loose.

Antonio stiffened around him, but Lovino was too drawn into his own pleasure, his own lust that he didn't notice Antonio's attempts to pull away, or his stuttering, weak protests until he was planted firmly on the floor, stunned.

"The fuck?"

"I-I'm sorry Lovino, _pero no pude dejar que pase eso_… I dropped you?"

Atmosphere entirely dissipated, Lovino only scowled and brushed his derriere when he stood as though nothing had happened, as though he hadn't just lived through the most exotic, exhilarating moments of his life.

.

Lovino was angry at him, that much Antonio could tell. With a sigh that hung heavily in their deathly silence, Antonio studied for the umpteenth time Lovino's gorgeously etched features. With full, enticingly smooth and pink lips in the perfect pout that begged for a kiss, exquisitely dark amber orbs that held the depth of a stormy sea, and unblemished, olive-hued skin Antonio wouldn't mind blotching, Lovino was a walking temptation that Antonio found painfully hard to resist. Moments before, when Lovino had been nothing short of utterly wilted in his arms, it had taken every ounce of self-control Antonio had to refrain from kissing the Italian senseless, until those bow-shaped lips were red and swollen from a passionate onslaught.

Even as they did nothing but sit in silence, Antonio found the idea of stealing a kiss appealing. Eyelids lowering in fascination, he watched as Lovino idly played with the one errant curl that refused to bow down beneath his fingertips. In his state of infatuation, Antonio found the small action captivating.

Coughing loudly to break their silence and almost feeling a slight sense of guilt when Lovino jumped, Antonio offered what he hoped to be an amicable smile. He was sure that, at best, it appeared awkward. "So, why don't we get to know each other? Roma hasn't arrived yet, and it's boring sitting in silence."

Chewing his lip, a habit Antonio himself had, Lovino seemed to ponder the offer from every aspect before nodding in confirmation. "Sure. But you have to go first."

Antonio would have preferred listening to Lovino speak and to possibly watch his lips as he did so, but he obliged. "I don't think I have very much to say… Lucian is my brother, you met him a few days ago, and we inherited the event planning business from my mother, but he runs it more often than I do. That gives me time to practise for my fighting events. My father was a matador, which is part of the reason I chose to become one too. I wanted to follow in his footsteps."

Just as Antonio was beginning to run out of ideas to speak of, he remembered something worthy of great excitement. He couldn't get the words out fast enough. "I know! I could tell you about my friends! They're coming for the event tomorrow; you're going to have to meet them anyway, so I should tell you what they're like beforehand! There is a reason they are my best friends, and I think you're going to love them too."

Lovino's lip curled; his brow wrinkled cutely. "Do I really want to know?"

The grin Antonio offered hurt his cheeks. "Yes!"

"Okay, one of my best friends is Francis. He's French; blond hair, blue eyes, and a real lover. It doesn't matter where we go, he'll find someone to take home on his arm each and every time. Male or female, he can get whoever he wants. But recently he's found someone he really, really likes! He sends me pictures all the time of them together. I say it's love, and they make a really cute couple."

Antonio paused to wet his dry lips with a swipe of his tongue and couldn't help but notice Lovino followed the simple movement, mesmerised. The corners of his mouth twitched into a thoughtful simper to disguise a smirk.

"And then there's Gilbert. I'm pretty sure he was born in Munich, but it he calls himself a Prussian, and nobody can get him to say otherwise. His stubbornness is what makes him really fun to be around; the three of us always get into a bunch of adventures when we're together. He's not a matador like me though, he's a bullrid- Oh, and did I mention Francis used to be a matador? Bull fighting is famous in France, and that's what he used to do until he was hurt... I think that's how he met Matthew, the boyfriend I was telling you about. Matthew was his doctor or something. And then Gilbert has a boyfriend too, I think his name is Roder-"

"Wait, you're talking too fast," Lovino interrupted, graceful fingers rubbing his temples in small circles. "Francis is the French one who used to fight bulls, Gilbert is the German who rides bulls?"

"Gilbert is Prussian."

Lovino wore a look of blatant annoyance. "I don't care."

"If you call him a German tomorrow, he'll give you a speech on why he considers himself a Prussian!"

"Again, _I don't care_."

"Just don't say I didn't warn you... Now it's your turn, tell me something about yourself!"

"Like what?"

Antonio knew exactly what he wanted to hear, but for the sake of procrastination chewed his lip in false thought. "Tell me about when you were little. What were you like?"

"Roma says I was a little devil... Feliciano was always the favourite one, but he probably was as good as everybody says he was. Always painting and cleaning like a little angel, all that I would do was eat and sleep." Lovino's voice was distant as he recalled the memory, beautiful eyes dulling and becoming dreamy with recollection. He seemed unable to hold back a faint smirk and a mirthful, if not slightly bitter, chuckle. "The favouritism hasn't changed, but it's not like I care anymore."

Antonio briefly paused, observing the impatient twitching of Lovino's fingers and the tap of his foot on the floor. "…I think you do. You care a lot, about a lot of things. You just don't let anybody know that you do."

"That's not true. I don't dare about anything except myself." Lovino's voice rang hollow to Antonio's ears. Despite his lack of ability in reading the atmosphere, Antonio knew when he was being lied to.

"No Lovi, we both know that's not true. Tell me about one thing, just one thing, that you cared about."

After staring at the carpeted floor for what seemed like an eternity, Lovino spoke in a voice so soft it could have been an entirely different entity speaking.

"I used to have this bull. I liked him, got too attached to him, Roma sold it, and I wasn't allowed to get attached to bulls anymore."

Protesting was in Antonio's very nature. "Lovi! Don't cut your story short, there has to be more to it than that! I told you my story, it's your turn!"

Lovino sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with tired fingers. Antonio noticed the faint, dark markings beneath his eyes. "You can never leave anything alone, can you?"

Lovino gave up with an exaggerated flourish of his hands and lowered his gaze when he cheerily shook his head, but continued.

"I already told you that I used to have this bull... But when I say he was special, it's because he was really special. He was _my_ bull. Feliciano was too little to play with him and steal him away from me, but I was old enough to feed him and do all that kind of stuff. I took care of him and raised him from a tiny little shit to a huge, strong bull, with large horns and hoofs big enough to stomp even you through the ground. Like always though, this was a bull that was going to be sold for events like this or some other crap. But I was really attached to the animal, so when Grandpa said he sold it, I became upset. Really fucking upset, and we'll leave it at that. So ever since then, Grandpa tells me not to touch the bulls or like them. And I don't."

Before Antonio could think twice about the consequences of embracing Lovino, he found his arms wrapped comfortingly around narrow shoulders, one hand petting locks that were _so_ soft, softer than he had imagined. "Oh, my poor Lovi! That explains so much about why you're afraid to show that you actually care ab-"

"Shut up! And let me go, goddammit!"

The sound of a door unlocking was the only indication that Roma had returned, and just as suddenly as he had wrapped his arms around a reddening Italian, they were snatched back and at his sides. Antonio instantly regretted being interrupted.

But business came first, and he couldn't allow his disappointment to shine through. "Roma, how good to see you!"

"Antonio, I do apologise for being late. I trust Lovino has been a good host?"

"Mr. Antonio!"

The small room erupted with the sound of several accented voices all speaking at once, each trying to speak above the other. Antonio's head throbbed faintly, and out of the corner of his eye he watched as Lovino clapped his hands to his ears and beat a hasty retreat to the sanctity of the nearly nonexistent kitchen.

.

Blissfully alone in the kitchen, Lovino slid against the refrigerator wall and allowed the memories and logic of what felt like eons earlier to flood his mind. What had he been thinking? Those moments of delicious eroticism while dancing with Antonio, the feeling of someone that simply _radiated_ the aura of power so close... It was intoxicating, but that made it no less mortifying.

Lovino could no longer deny himself the dopey, foolish smile he always hid when around Antonio. So tall, strong, passionate... Passionate, whether the subject was structured around bulls or dance... It was an endearing quality. He would be passionate, fiery in every other aspect as well...

Mind slipping down the gutter, Lovino had to physically shake his head to snap himself out of a shamefully pleasant reverie. It was thoughts like those that were becoming the bane of his existence, _had_ been the bane of his existence ever since the night in the plaza square days before.

Nights waking up with a sweaty brow and dampened sheets were all caused by Antonio and a regretfully ideal scenario, driving Lovino to desperation. It was so indecent, not that he cared about decency, but it went so drastically against what he typically thought of people... The fact that Antonio was a male was only more unnerving. He had never felt for a male, had never even felt so strong an emotion for a female...

Lovino did not have the time to further ponder his troubling, conflicted sexuality when Feliciano pranced into the kitchen with two mugs in hand. "Fratello, Grandpa says to make c-"

"Coffee, Lovino!"

With a brief roll of eyes, Lovino set to the task of grinding coffee beans for the second time that morning. Antonio would be hyper as fuck in the evening. The thought of Antonio bouncing off walls, running in crazed, repeated circles placed a grim smile on Lovino's lips.

"We saw a cat today, Lovi. We were going to bring it home with us but then Grandpa said that they wouldn't let it come into the hotel! So we left it in the streets, which was sad... At least we bought it a churro! It seemed to be a little bit happier after that. I guess it's a good thing that we didn't bring it with us, because if we were to take it home to Italy with us I don't think Fettuccine would be very happy about having a partner cat!"

Attention fixed on evenly distributing string of caramel to the steaming mug, Lovino didn't pay attention to Feliciano's rambles, or notice when his younger brother fell into an unexpected silence.

"Lovino, do you love Mr. Antonio?"

"Che? Ah, _dannazione_!"

The sensitive skin of Lovino's palm was blotched an angry red and throbbed, coffee dripping off the tips of his fingertips and falling onto the floor in a sticky puddle. Lovino shot daggers at his panicked brother.

"Why would you ask something stupid like that?"

"It's just that you always become happy when Mr. Antonio is around and he's so nice, so I don't see why you wouldn't like him! And I think he likes you too, he spent the whole day with you that one time and bought you a churro and you two danced, and you were so close just now when Grandpa and I got back!"

_Shit_. Feliciano had seen them.

Thinking carefully before speaking, a rare occasion, Lovino blinked in slow consideration, twisting and analysing any possible words to prevent any misinterpretations. "He's annoying, Feliciano, always loud and talkative, he's only nice because he wants to get a good deal on our bulls, and we were only close because I..._fell_ and he caught me."

"But do you like him?"

Silence flooded the room as Lovino pointedly kept his silence. Feliciano twitched on the counter before lowering himself to the ground and taking the half-spilled cups of coffee into a soft-fingered grip.

"Do you? Do you love Mr. Antonio?" Feliciano attempted one last time, hope clear in his tone.

Lovino remained silent.

Watching Feliciano's lithe form prance away into the study where Antonio and Roma were exchanging payments and business negotiations, a hopeless, almost sad smile quirked on the corners of Lovino's lips. "I don't know."

* * *

_Perdonamé, mí amor- Forgive me, love._

_Pero no pude dejar que pase eso- I could not allow that to happen._

* * *

_And there you have it folks, chapter three. Reviews are always greatly appreciated! _


	4. Chapter 4

_This is the chapter where I mention a bit more of Gilbert and Francis, for anybody who is interested in their character. Are there any other FraNada shippers reading this? If so, you should all check out this fanfic I found while reading yesterday. It's really amazing, and it's actually pretty sad just how ignored it is._

_ .net (/s/9314414/1/Les-Feuilles-Mortes)_

_And while we're on the topic of promotion, here is a bit of shameful self-promotion: anybody interested in Fruk should check out 'Letters and Bourbon' on my profile. I personally don't Fruk as much as some people do, but it's a gift for a friend and it can't hurt to self-promote._

_And now, chapter four of When in Spain._

* * *

Lovino found out very quickly that the only thing worse than sitting in a crowded arena with Spanish-speaking onlookers was sitting in a hot crowded arena with Spanish-speaking onlookers.

The sun bearing down on the stands was harsh, blinding in its intensity, and causing an uncomfortably damp feeling to bloom across Lovino's body. Grimacing, both in disgust to the sweat darkening the back of his shirt and the general discomfort of the heat, Lovino pushed away the locks from his brow and stomped toward the crowd that consisted of Antonio, Roma, and Feliciano.

"It's really hot over there, you should have told me you weren't going to head right over," he snapped, placing a petulant hand on his hip and glaring toward the seat he had been sitting in moments prior. "When people say they're going to head right over, I usually expect them to show up a few minutes later."

"Don't be such a pussy, Lovino." With a good-natured tone, Roma clapped a hand onto Lovino's shoulder and gave a hearty squeeze. "Antonio here was just telling me about a few of his expected guests while we wait for Lucian."

Slightly exasperated, and purposely ignoring Antonio's attempts to capture his attention with a sparkling grin and waves, Lovino turned a confused brow toward his grandfather. "You still have to discuss payment with that guy?"

"Of course not, we're discussing next year's arrangements!" Roma trailed off as someone to the side caught his attention, and he promptly turned in that direction. "I do believe that's him... Stay with Feli and don't let him get hurt. You're in charge Lovino, don't do anything stupid." Heading toward a woman who he couldn't have possibly mistaken for a male, Roma left and disappeared into the horde of tourists. Lovino scowled. Lecherous bastard.

"So your friends really are coming, eh?" Just barely turning to address Antonio, Lovino latched onto Feliciano's hand and pulled the straying Italian to his side. "I wouldn't be surprised if they don't show up."

Antonio's broad smile faltered slightly, and his brow knit. "Of course they will, why wouldn't they?"

"If they were to tolerate you just as much as I do they wouldn't come at all, that's why."

A smile turning the corners of his lips slightly, Antonio seemed to catch on to the jet and rose to the occasion by clapping a hand to his chest dramatically. "Oh Lovino, how you hurt me so!" Swooning for added effect, Antonio batted his astonishingly long lashes. "Isn't there any way you could possibly like me, perhaps with time?"

"I'd have to think about it." Winking coyly and realising Feliciano slipped away from his grip without his noticing, Lovino cursed and whirled in a half circle to find his brother. When Antonio let out a bloodcurdling scream and started to bounce up and down on the balls of his feet, Lovino felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach in despair.

But when he turned, instead of finding Feliciano trampled on the ground, he found Antonio locked into a squealing embrace with two other men. He also found Feliciano, standing off to the side alongside a silent, tall blond that pissed off Lovino just by looks alone. He could see, even from a distance, that Feliciano was already chattering away and making the blond look distinctly uncomfortable.

Ignoring his brother to stormily approach Antonio, _not because he was jealous_, Lovino broke apart the embrace, _not because he was jealous_, to single out the Spaniard and punch his upper arm. "Why did you scream like that, _malandrino_, you scared me!"

Lovino felt eyes settle upon him almost immediately, and he turned a frosty glare toward the two other men in return. "What?"

Much to his horror, Antonio slung an arm around his shoulders and cheerfully gestured at the men he had been intimately hugging seconds before. "Ay, you two, this is Lovi. Lovi, these are Francis and Antonio!"

Lovino's lip curled by near instinct. "Oh, the Frenchie and the German."

The white-haired, crimson-eyed male that almost scared Lovino immediately looked affronted and lifted a finger in the air. "Excuse you, I am a _Prussian_. While _some_ people mistake me for German, I very proudly identify as–"

"Not right now, Gil." Waving a hand dismissively, Antonio gazed around impatiently and looked vaguely reminiscent of an excited little boy. "So where are these partners I've been waiting to meet? I've heard all about them, and I'm excited to meet them!"

"They're still getting admitted, they took forever getting out of the car and got left behind," Gilbert drawled, drumming his fingers against hips. Lovino hated his voice already– loud, self-assured, boisterous. It was everything the German seemed to scream out by appearances alone.

"They were not only left behind because we were excited to see you, 'Tonio, they went to go look for a vendor of sorts. They find the heat intolerable, as do I, quite frankly." It was the Frenchman's turn to speak, and Lovino liked his voice even less than the other's.

"It _is_ pretty hot today.. I don't know how I'll survive in my traje de luces!" exclaimed Antonio, fanning himself with his hand. "But how have you been, amigos?"

"I've–"

"I've been doing wonderful! Matthew is absolutely darling, and I've never been happier!"

An annoyed look was exchanged between the German and Francis, and Antonio patted Gilbert's back sympathetically. "How have _you_ been, Gilbert?"

"Why _thank you_ for asking. I've been kicking ass, baby! Doing awesome, still doing some riding, and doin' my Roddykins!"

Lovino couldn't possibly begin to feel sorry for the man who was stuck with that idiot. Or perhaps he was just as much of an idiot, and therefore made the perfect couple with Gilbert. Antonio, on the other hand, seemed used to the German's antics.

"Still riding! That's great to hear, I bet it's what is keeping you in shape!"

Francis grinned wickedly and jabbed his fingers into Gilbert's unsuspecting sides. "It's the only thing that's keeps our little Gilly here from getting a beer gut!"

"Shut up, you pastry eater! You're the fat one, French boy!"

Lovino found himself rolling his eyes at the sheer idiocy of the trio. Redirecting the attention to include himself in the conversation, because he frankly didn't like being left out, Lovino didn't bother trying to sound civil.

"So... Antonio told me you like riding, German. Why don't you bullfight like the blond bastard and Antonio?"

"Prussian! I am a Prussian, you little Italian brat." Gilbert's voice was nearly a whine, but all the same, he shrugged. "I just prefer riding."

Francis gave a very obvious wink and nudged Antonio's shoulder. "You hear that Toni? He prefers _riding_." Adding heavy intonation to the last word, it was only extremely obvious what he was trying to insinuate.

A dry, unimpressed look was delivered on Gilbert's behalf. "Very funny Francis. We all know Matthew topped your stupid French ass on New Year's. I don't take it from anybody, I totally top all the t– Baby! When did you get here?"

A slender, sophisticated male appeared at Gilbert's side and effectively silenced the German by arching a single brow. "Gilbert? Behaving yourself, yes?"

"Uh...Yeah, of course." Gilbert deflated slightly, before skipping to the other's side and draping an arm around his waist. "Toni, Italian, this is my Roddy baby! And he's an Austrian, which is almost as good as Prussian!"

A fair blush dusted over the brunet's cheeks and he fixed the glasses atop the bridge of his nose with one finger. "Roderich, not Roddy. I really do hope Gilbert hasn't embarrassed himself too much quite yet. If he has, I apologise on his behalf."

Turning to his apparent beau, Roderich once again arched an elegant brow and made a slightly haughty sound. A smug smile graced his lovely face. "And what was that you were saying about always 'topping,' Gilbert? You didn't last night, dearest, which is precisely why you're walking a bit more haphazardly than usual."

As Francis broke out into raucously French laughter and Gilbert into a blush, Lovino decided fixedly that he liked Roderich. Before he could make a snide comment about Gilbert, Francis cleared his throat loudly and gestured with a flourish toward a reserved blond at his side. "And this, _mes amis_, is Mathieu, the wonderful reason I am still alive!"

Interest dissipated, Lovino stole a glance to the side and eyed his brother suspiciously. He looked awfully close to the silent blond from earlier before, and his talking still hadn't ceased.

Nudging Antonio's side none too gently to snatch his attention away from a conversation on the finesse of wine as opposed to German beer, Lovino pointed toward the monstrous blond beside his brother. "Do you know who that is? If you don't, I expect you to kick his ass for harassing Feliciano."

Antonio looked vaguely surprised, before his expression relaxed and broke into an amused grin. "That's Gilbert's little brother. From the looks of it, I'd say Feliciano is the one doing the abusing. Poor Ludwig looks really uncomfortable."

Perhaps knowing the pale brute was related to Gilbert made the fact that Feliciano was talking to him even worse.

"Go get him! I don't want any of your friend's brother's weirdness to rub off on Feli!"

Antonio looked unworried, the polar opposite to the expression Lovino wore. "Ludwig is the calmest person I've ever met Lovi, you really don't have to worry about him. People always think he's the older brother; Gil is the crazy one. They'll be fine, as long as Feliciano doesn't talk Ludwig to death."

"I'm still watching them."

"And speaking of watching..."

Interrupting the debate that promised of blood with a loud clap of his hands, Antonio swayed on the balls of his feet and slung arms around the shoulders of his friends.

"Now chicos, you need to stop arguing. We all know rum is the best anyway!"

Ignoring the snorts and jabs that met his claim, Antonio insistently began to drag his friends toward the stadium seats. "It is almost time for the great fight, and I want my best friends to be right in the front where I can see them!"

Left behind with Roderich and Matthew, Lovino arched an eyebrow in irritation. "Aren't we supposed to be there too?"

Roderich flashed a kind, if not slightly condescending smile. "Whenever they meet for a match, the rest of the world can go down in flames for all they care. Don't take it to heart; I'm sure Antonio would escort you personally on any other day."

Whatever respect Lovino had for the Austrian flew out the theoretical window. "I don't care about being escorted! Hell, for all I care Antonio could disappear with them and drop dead!"

Leaving behind two bemused, confounded males, Lovino stomped toward his brother and cut him off in mid sentence with a particularly hard yank backward. "Let's go, fratellino, the match is going to start. Besides, I don't want you to hand around _malandrinos_ like this man and his brother."

Not bothering to mask a vicious glare in the blond's direction, Lovino dragged Feliciano toward the stands despite his whining. By the time they were admitted into the arena again, Roderich and Matthew were waiting patiently beside their partners. Much to Lovino's annoyance, a bold sign loudly claiming '**RESERVED' **was planted onto the seat between a bickering German and Frenchman.

"Do you want to sit there?"

Feliciano shrugged, still clearly miffed from having been dragged away from his blond German friend, and inspected the remaining empty seats in the nearby vicinity.

"I guess... OH! I'll take that seat, it's only two seats above yours!"

Before Lovino could protest, Feliciano was darting up the steps and dropping himself unceremoniously into the seat beside Gilbert's brother. A growl of annoyance sounded in Lovino's throat. What the hell was it with Feliciano and this German kid, and how did he get into the arena before they did?

Ignoring his stupid brother, Lovino sauntered begrudgingly toward the seat awaiting him. Inquisitive eyes followed his progress, and Lovino grit his jaw. "What?"

A crafty look gleamed in Francis' eyes, and Lovino immediately distrusted it. "I was just wondering why you are pleasuring us with your lovely presence!"

Not one to be left behind, Gilbert added, "Yeah, you seemed pretty pissed with us earlier. Despite our astonishing good looks, well, mine, Antonio is _all_ yours, fussbucket. You don't have to worry about us stealing him away from you." The cheeky wink that accompanied the statement had Lovino gasping and clenching his fists in shock.

"I am not worried about that! _Va a farti la sega, bastardo_! I don't care what Antonio does, I don't even like him! I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!"

All at once, the group fell silent. Oddly subdued, Lovino let out one final sigh of exasperation before noticing that the crew's eyes were glued to something behind him. Or _someone_. Ignoring the odd prickle of discomfort that ruptured through his spine, Lovino huffed and turned to take his seat...

Only to find Antonio watching him silently.

Lovino's stomach dropped to the floor in a matter of crushing seconds. Lovino felt his heart fragment. Antonio's eyes were sad. He had heard. Oh, God, oh God, he had heard that...

Lovino felt the blood drain from his face and opened his mouth to apologise, or perhaps offer an affectionate curse word... But Antonio smiled weakly, looking as though he'd be sick at any moment, and left before Lovino could utter so much as a word.

Silence greeted him as he took his seat amid Antonio's best friends.

Lovino had gone through low points in life, but he never felt lower than he did right then and there.

.

"Antonio!"

Screams of the Spaniard's name were ripping through the air, Gilbert's and Francis' the loudest and most prominent in the arena. After gracefully feinting an attack toward the bull and skipping away merrily, Antonio waved excitedly toward the stands where his friends were waving. Lovino noted pointedly that Antonio deliberately avoided his gaze. It was possible that he was too preoccupied with not getting gored, but Lovino was sure he was being purposely ignored because of his earlier outburst.

A heavy, sick feeling settled gloomily over him and the fools beside him either did not notice or chose not to remark upon it. Francis started talking to him again fifteen minutes into the match, to discuss the fabulous way Antonio's creamy, sequinned suit clung to his admittedly gorgeous arse. Gilbert had been more reluctant to speak and had required coercing by Francis to speak to Lovino again. But even after settling on speaking terms, Lovino knew they were still upset with him to some level.

How could they not be? They had all seen the sick look on Antonio's face after hearing the wretched words. They had all seen the way his hand had brushed inconspicuously against his cheekbone, and they had all seen the way Antonio's shoulders slumped once he made his grand entrance to slay the bull.

Lovino was the one slumping now, half collapsed into his rigid seat and watching Antonio's lithe actions in the arena with a slightly remorseful gaze. From above, he could hear Feliciano chattering about the excitement of being in the crowded arena, and had heard his relentless sobbing when the bull had first been mocked and teased by the puntillas. He couldn't quite hear the other German's responses, but he didn't like the bastard all the same, so that didn't matter.

Ways to apologise to Antonio infiltrated and swarmed his thoughts, even as his gaze was glued unseeingly toward the occupied open arena.

_I'm sorry Antonio, I didn't really mean that... Well, I did, but I didn't mean it so meanly_...

_Perdoname, Antonio_...

_If you don't forgive me, you figli di putana..._

No, the last one was most definitely not decent. Nimble fingers rubbed his sore temples slowly, and Lovino was highly tempted to leave the stadium. It was too loud, too crowded... It was difficult to focus on one thing at a time... Well, not _quite_...

Lidded eyes followed Antonio's body quite determinedly, following long legs and trailing higher up, until... _There_. A sharp incisor dug into the soft flesh of his lower lip, and Lovino had to hold back a quiet moan. Antonio had a _fabulous_ arse. Encased in ridiculously tight, cream-coloured pants, every delicious curve of that firm arse stood out boldly to Lovino, despite the distance between himself and the pit Antonio was in.

An equally tight shirt, just as embroidered and insanely embellished as the lower counterpart, clung to an undeniably toned chest and broad shoulders.

Undeniably brazen eyes admired every inch of Antonio's body, and Lovino didn't realise he himself was being watched until Francis gave him a very obvious nudge.

"I see you are eyeing out Antonio's spectacular piece of arse!" Gilbert joined in on the catcalls, before Francis silenced him with a raised hand and turned to Lovino with a shockingly steely gleam to his blue eyes. "But I am telling you right now, as AMI, that you can't pick and choose what you want about Antonio. Antonio is a very special man, and he is one of the kindest, most honest, and most selfless men I have ever had the pleasure to become friends with...Yes, you too are one of them, Gilbert... And I am warning you already, if you want to take it that way, that Gilbert and I will protect our 'Tonio from anyone who wants to hurt him." Blue eyes narrowed into slits, and from the other side opposite Francis, Gilbert's oddly-coloured eyes narrowed as well.

"It's pretty goddamn obvious just how much you like him–" Lovino flinched unnoticeably and squawked in protest, but Gilbert continue as though he hadn't noticed. "–and that you just have problems admitting to it, but we won't let him get hurt. He's a little shit and we get into our fair share of arguments, but he's still a bro and bros do not _ever_ let each other fuck up. Or get hurt," finished Gilbert eloquently, appearing satisfied with his addition to the near threat.

Unable to hide his intimidation, Lovino looked away and refused to meet the gazes focused upon him. "I don't like him," he mumbled, self-conscientiously rubbing the side if his nose to hide the blush blooming on his cheeks. "He's annoying and stuff, and the only nice thing about him is...nothing. So you don't have to worry or threaten me about anything, I'm not interested in Antonio."

Much to Lovino's ever merciful luck, Roderich chose the exact moment to intervene and snap the attention away from Lovino and toward the arena pit. A second bull was admitted into the pit, even though the first was still standing and charging, and Gilbert leapt to his feet in outrage.

"They can't do that! Those dickheads, it's obvious that Antonio has no idea what to fucking do!"

Small hands yanking on his hair distracted Lovino from the events taking place in the pit, and he turned toward Feliciano with an angry scowl. "What?!"

"Lovi, I don't think Mr Antonio knows what to do and in getting really scared Lovino, I don't want anything to happen to him!" Amber eyes were rimmed and shimmery with tears waiting to spill, and Feliciano's lower lip was quivering. Beside him, Gilbert's brother looked uncomfortable with the hand tightly clutching his own.

"Pay attention to what's happening and maybe you'll find out if he'll be alright," snapped Lovino, before turning his back to his brother and the concerned fellow at his side.

As he turned, the events that happened next seemed to take place in slow motion. The visible jolt of Antonio's body making connection with the flat of the bull's head, the wretched way his body snapped forward limply, Gilbert's shouts and Francis' screams ringing in his ear; the crimson that stained Antonio's formerly impeccable suit, the EMTs running into the ring, the way Antonio's body fell to the floor without a struggle.

It was all unrealistic, and Lovino's mind couldn't make connection to the fact that he had just witnessed Antonio being gored by a bull. He didn't register the hands desperately trying to shield his eyes, the frantic Italian being spoken by Feliciano to catch his attention.

"Fratello, don't look!"

Lovino couldn't look away. Antonio's unresponsive body was lifted from the ground and strapped onto a wheeled stretcher. Shortly after, he was wheeled out of the entrance and disappeared entirely out of sight.

Beside Lovino, Matthew was helplessly trying to console his French lover and wipe away the tears tracking down his stubbled cheeks. To the other direction, Gilbert was clinging to Roderich's shoulders with a trembling grip that looked painful, face buried into the crook of the Austrian's shoulder.

Dimly, Lovino noted that he had both nobody to console and nobody to be consoled by. Even Feliciano was being held by Ludwig, leaving dark, dampened marks into the German's pressed shirt.

But yet the only person who would be willing to comfort Lovino or kiss away his pains had just been wheeled out of the arena.

Lovino didn't feel it coming, but his vision darkened and went black altogether.

* * *

_TBC_


	5. Chapter 5

Lovino saw the world in black and white as he was ushered into a car with Gilbert, Francis, Ludwig and Feliciano. The world had lost its colour, lost its life after those horrifying moments when Antonio was injured, and with every breath Lovino took, a sharp pain shot through his chest.

He had never thought facing the idea of losing Antonio would be so painful. But it was, and even as Antonio and Francis screamed directions to the cab driver in tangled Spanish, Lovino sat silently beside the shouting men and said nothing. Everyone was crammed into the small compartment; Feliciano sitting on Ludwig's lap, Francis on Gilbert's, and each person was reacting to the day's events differently. Gilbert was quiet, Francis was loud, and Feliciano looked about ready to burst into tears anew.

By comparison, Lovino was stoic. His hands didn't tremble like Gilbert's; tears didn't occasionally rise to the brims of his eyes like Francis'. Lovino noted vaguely that Feliciano kept looking and peering at him in concern. If Feliciano were to be as quiet as he was after watching something so shocking, Lovino supposed he would be just as concerned.

But despite the way images of Antonio being pierced by the horn of the bull, of Antonio snapping forward visibly, of his body falling to the floor with a hard thud, Lovino found that tears simply wouldn't come. Instead, his temper sparked when he remembered the boos and disapproving hisses from the crowd as their youngest, most talented matador fell to the ground injured. He had turned and screamed at them all, shouted in blatant disbelief until Francis and Gilbert had dragged him out of the arena.

Even then Lovino fumed at the thought of somebody screaming insults at his Antonio, his poor, injured Antonio. Somewhere along the line where fear and panic blurred, Lovino realised he couldn't deny he loved Antonio. Watching Antonio's face pale and contort in pain had been excruciating; seeing Antonio crumple like a wilted flower had been insufferable. The thought of losing Antonio, of knowing the last words he had said to the Spaniard were words of hate, wracked Lovino's small frame with paralysing fear. He had never regretted anything more than lying and screaming those simple three words. _I hate you_.

The ride to the hospital Antonio had been taken to seemed endless. Staring out his window, the same city he had marvelled over with Antonio no longer struck him as beautiful. It was dull, lifeless, boring; it held no meaning now that Antonio wasn't there to point out the wonders of everything he saw.

Chin in palm, Lovino gazed absently by the passing fountain. He had been so stubborn, too stubborn to make a wish. Now there was nothing more that Lovino desired than a wish. A wish to take back his words, or for Antonio to have never been hurt. For Antonio to heal. For the bravery to whisper three little words, different from the ones he had shouted earlier. _I love you. _

A soft hand falling upon his own snapped Lovino from his thoughts. When he looked up, Feliciano's worried amber eyes were trained on him. "Lovino, please don't be sad. I know that you're sad even if you won't admit it, but please don't be quiet because that's even more scary than seeing you when you're upset. Yell or cry or do something!"

Spoken in quick, hushed Italian, Lovino responded in their shared native tongue. "I'm not sad, Feli. I'm just thinking." A good part of that statement was true. Lovino wasn't sad. He was scared, worried, upset. But he wasn't sad, because there wasn't anything to be sad about yet. "I'm okay. I just don't feel like talking."

Slightly uncomfortable after seeing Feliciano nod and turn his attention back to the German whose lap he was sitting in, Lovino looked out the window again and realised with a start that they had arrived at the hospital. A tight, twisting bundle of nerves inexplicably formed in the pit of Lovino's stomach. He wasn't ready to see Antonio. What if he was gravely hurt? Worse yet, what if he was angry at Lovino and refused to see him?

The small voice of reason in the back of Lovino's mind screamed that Antonio is good, Antonio is kind, Antonio would never do that... But Lovino still couldn't keep that prickle of doubt from lingering alongside him. He had shouted at Antonio for scaring him in a hotel room; why wouldn't Antonio be furious with him for screaming something so cruel?

By the entrance to the hospital Roderich and Matthew were waiting, pacing and conversing quietly. Having taken a separate cab, they arrived earlier to check in as visitors and save the rest the trouble of registering at the front desk. Their logic was the only thing keeping the group afloat in terms of sanity. Lovino was the first out of the cab, leaving the others behind to deal with terms of payment.

"I'm really quite sorry, Lovino," said Roderich sympathetically. "I know that seeing that happen to Antonio must have been difficult."

Instead of arguing, Lovino pursed his lips to the side and lowered his gaze. "Grazíe."

Roderich seemed startled, but before he could make a remark he had an unexpected armful of Gilbert. Lovino ignored them, and gazed dubiously at the enormous facility. "Where am I supposed to go?"

"He's in the operating room. They said a fragment of the horn was stuck inside him," Matthew answered, spreading his hands in a helpless gesture. "He's going to be out soon, but we still have to wait for at least an hour in the waiting room."

Without waiting for anybody to escort him inside, Lovino took off running into the building. The line at the front desk was long, the inexperienced receptionist sent him to the wrong floor, and the security guards were eyeing him suspiciously, but Lovino felt nothing but pure relief once he finally found himself in the waiting room of the surgical floor.

Then he started to pace. A whirlwind flurry of thoughts swirled in his mind, stealing away his attention from the surrounding area and absorbing every bit of his concentration. His Grandpa Roma had once said wishful thinking and seduction were always the keys to getting out of a tough situation. Yet despite that, Lovino couldn't think away his fears. He could only imagine the countless things that could go wrong, could only picture the line of the heart monitor going flat and beeping that one flat, heart wrenching beep. He felt his own heart falter and skip a beat at the very thought of that scenario.

Lovino didn't realise he was trembling until someone's hand reached out to steady his own. Matthew's warm hand was astoundingly comforting, and despite the slightly bewildered looks of the people who had managed to make their way into the room without his noticing, Lovino took the Canadian's hand into his own and clutched it tightly.

"Everything _will_ be alright, Lovino. Francis was worse when he saw me. He had caught several infections along the road to recovery, but he's still here today." Matthew seemed to ignore the offhand, "Not sure if that's a good thing," that came from Gilbert.

"Before you know it, Antonio is going to be just how he used to be," Matthew added with a small smile.

"But what if he's not okay?" All eyes turned to Lovino as he began to tremble uncontrollably. "What if he doesn't make it through the surgery, or the surgeon's hand slips?" Lovino choked out, feeling his throat constrict and shoulders quake. "What if the last thing he heard me say was that I hated him?"

Silence met his final question. Gilbert looked away, Roderich closed his eyes in understanding. Feliciano was the first to speak, and when he did, Lovino couldn't have been more shocked by the passionate, almost angry tone his younger brother used.

"Antonio is going to be okay, Lovino. He's going to be okay, but you still have to apologise because you were mean and rude to Antonio, and it wasn't fair. So when the nurse comes out to tell us that he is okay and that we can go inside, you are going to tell him you're sorry." Feliciano was nearly pale with unexpected rage before he exhaled slowly and smiled cheekily. "And then you can kiss him and make him your boyfriend."

Lovino blanched with mortification as amused, furtive glances were stolen his way and Francis waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Nothing was spoken out loud, but everyone in the room knew something along those lines would happen. Lovino himself couldn't deny that Feliciano's command was the best form if apology he could have possibly heard.

The rest of the wait was unbearable. The hands of the clock on the wall seemed to never move, and by the time the young nurse stepped out of the operating room, Lovino was a nervous mess again.

"How is he?" He was the first to his feet, nearly stumbling and falling in the suddenness of his actions. The pretty nurse began to stutter, and Lovino realised with frustrating clarity that she only spoke Spanish.

"Es... Bueno mí amigo?"

Lovino knew Gilbert's garbled Spanish was off, but it seemed good enough; with a quick bounce of her head, the nurse led them through the doors, twisting down hallways and nursing stations before pausing in front of a sturdy down.

"_Honestamente, no esta bien. Todavía no ha despertado, pero sí debería de estar bien. Con permiso." _

Blonde curls bounced as she walked away without another explanation, nor a translation. Francis blinked and frowned.

"She either said he's not awake and will be okay, or that she will see me tomorrow with or without my permission."

"She wasn't coming on to you, French boy." Gilbert shoved Francis' shoulder, earning an insulted huff, and pushed open the door to the patient room.

"I don't think we're allowed in there."

Ignoring Roderich, Lovino tore into the room. The breath escaped from his lungs immediately and he took a step back, feeling as though he had just been punched in the gut.

As pale as the sheet he was on, needles and wires hooked onto his body, and frighteningly real monitors tracking his vital functions, Antonio looked tiny and fragile in the hostile room. Lovino felt his heart tear at the sight of him, the strong, lively, enthusiastic person he was reduced to a weak, wilted shell on the hospital cot.

Lovino didn't register his own footsteps or falling to his knees by Antonio's side. He didn't realise that his lower lip was quivering or that his hands were shaking, but he was painfully aware of the ache in his chest when Antonio's lovely eyes, always green and brilliant, didn't open. He had taken their sparkle for granted, had ignored the elation he would feel whenever Antonio would bat those dark lashes coyly at him. Now those dark lashes lay still against his pale cheeks, and always smiling, always curled lips were nothing but a straight line.

When Lovino could no longer stand to look at Antonio's unmoving face, he looked up to find an empty room. Alarmed and stunned, Lovino flew out of the room with a gasp and rammed into Feliciano in his haste to exit the room.

"Lovino!"

Lovino ignored Feliciano's cry of surprise, knowing that Ludwig, that bastard, would help his brother up, and ran. He ran out if the operating ward, away from the Antonio, away from the hospital, and away from everything else in between until his breathing was tagged and tears were stinging his dry eyes.

The sun was already down, the moon shyly clinging to the sky in its place, and Lovino shook his head incredulously. The day was over, and yet it felt as though it had lasted both an eternity and mere seconds. Either way, Lovino wished that the day had never existed.

Wandering aimlessly, he didn't recognise any of the city landmarks until he reached the plaza steps, the same steps he had danced upon with Antonio. Now that Antonio wasn't there to make something out of nothing, Lovino could admit that that day had been one of the most exciting days of his life. The warmth of Antonio's body against his, his insistence upon dancing, his energetic, riveting laughter. Lovino's lips twitched fondly, and he continued to walk, trying to remember the way to the town fountain.

"Lovino."

Lovino jumped with a start when an accented, soothingly familiar voice gently interrupted his thoughts. A warm, heavy weight settled around his shoulders, oddly nostalgic, and Lovino leant into his grandpa's shoulder weakly. "He's not okay, grandpa."

"I know he's not. Feliciano called me and told me all about it. Do you want to talk about it?"

Lovino shook his head slowly before recognising the street they were on. Or rather, recognising the landmark that stood in the centre of it. "Look, the fountain."

Roma sighed and closed his eyes slowly. It was a long time before he spoke, and when he did, his voice was soft. "I never expected you to fall in love with another man. I always thought you and your brother would mess around for a little while, find a nice girl and settle down after a few dates and one-nighters here and there. But I shouldn't be surprised, since I experimented here and there before too... I just always had a lady in my bed at the end of the day."

"Eww, grandpa..."

"Wait! What I'm trying to say is, I'll accept you as you are. If you ever love someone, don't let them go. I mean it, Lovino. I will disown you if you ever let love pass you by, understood?" Smiling a smile that reached his eyes, Roma pulled his grandson into a warm embrace. Lovino laughed nervously and rubbed the side of his nose.

"Grazíe, nonno. I think you should give Feli this little talk though, he's pretty in over his head for a German." Instead of the sputtering reaction Lovino expected, Roma laughed heartily.

"What is it about foreigners that attract my grandchildren? You and this Spaniard, then my little Feliciano and a German. What is next, a Russian? I guess the Italian ladies and men just aren't enough for you two!"

Lovino laughed alongside his grandpa, but even then a decidedly grim smile lingered on the corner of his lips. There would be no 'next.' If it wasn't Antonio, Lovino was genuinely not interested in meeting another person. Nobody would be able to match Antonio's vivacity, his energy, his brilliant passion for life.

Roma was silent and serene for a few moments before he slowly released Lovino's shoulders.

"Stay out as long as you need to. Just don't get lost. I'll see you at the hospital in the morning." Pressing an unexpected, shockingly affectionate kiss to Lovino's temple, Roma turned around and headed toward the main streets of Seville.

Made aware of the cold without his grandpa's warmth, Lovino shouted out after Roma's retreating figure. "You could have left me your jacket!"

Without missing a beat or turning around, Roma shouted back cheerfully, "You could have brought Antonio's!"

Snorting in amusement to himself, Lovino turned toward the fountain and fell quiet . _Make a wish, Lovino._

Walking sadly toward the fountain, Lovino sat on the intricate footing and gazed down into the reflective water. Studying his own reflection, Lovino tried to smile. It didn't look genuine, and it felt even less so.

Lovino felt the rush of tears come hotly, one dripping off the tip of his nose and forming a ripple in the dark water below. Without Antonio, there was no reason to smile. Whether it was his guilt for having screamed something so cruel to Antonio that was making him so depressed, or because he was actually falling in love with the Spaniard, Lovino felt miserable without that dopey grin, those gleaming eyes, that easygoing, carefree person that was Antonio Carriedo.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets to guard against the biting chill of the night air, Lovino felt the smooth surface of coins press against his clenched fingers. Pulling out the two coins he had, he tried to remember what it was that Antonio had told him. One coin for a good time, two for a wish, and three to fall in love.

Lovino's smile was bittersweet. He only had two coins. It was oddly befitting, because he didn't need three.

Rubbing the two coins together, Lovino turned his back to the fountain, threw the coins over his shoulder and, most importantly, he wished.

"I wish that Antonio gets better. I don't care if he hates me–" He would be shattered. "I don't care if he gets a big, ugly scar–" Scars were rather attractive. "–And I don't even care if I never see him again." He had to pause to wipe away the tears. "Just don't let that bastard die. Please."

Almost afraid to whisper the most frightening words he could possibly mutter , Lovino lowered his gaze and stared into the dark water. It had been so cold the last time he fell in. It would be positively freezing now, and Antonio wouldn't be there to comfort him or melt away the chill with his warmth.

Lowering himself to his knees, Lovino felt the last tear fall into the water.

"I love him, alright? So don't let him die."

Closing his eyes in defeat, Lovino felt the heavy toll of an eventful day tide him over into a deep sleep, right beside the fountain.


End file.
